i&'""  iniiHiiillllllillMiH 


**f/ 


No.  82. 

LIEUTENANT  R., 

OR    THE 

TRACT  READ  IN  THE  THEATRE. 


Of  my  old  respected  friend,  Lieutenant  R.,  [  cannot 
tell  yon  much,  so  many  years  having-  elapsed  since  he 
entered  into  glory,  and  [  never  having  committed  to 
paper  any  memoranda  of  his  short,  though  most 
satisfactory  passage  from  the  kingdom  of  darkness 
to  that  of  light  and  immortality.  It  was  .about  the 
year  1S12  that,  in  the  discharge  of  my  professional  du- 
ties, I  was  requested  to  attend  on  Lieut.  R.,  who  was 
the  subject  of  severe,  but  transient  disease.  I  had 
been  struck  by  the  personal  appearance  and  honorable 
conduct  of  this  young  officer.  I  think  I  never  knew  a 
handsomer  man  of  twenty-five,  one  of  more  pleasing 
manners,  or  more  gentlemanly  feelings.  He  was  uni- 
versally beloved  and  respected,  and  for  these  circum- 
stances his  company  was  so  generally  sought  after,  that 
he  became  devoted  to  all  the  follies  and  unsatisfying 
pursuits  of  pleasure,  falsely  so  called.  On  recovering 
his  usual  degree  of  health,  he  called  on  me  to  request 
that  I  would  report  him  off  the  sick  list,  and  at  the 
same  time  tendered  me  some  pecuniary  acknowledg- 
ment for  my  professional  services,  stating  that  he  had 
been  accustomed   to  remunerate  my  predecessor.     My 


answer  was,  of  course,  that  which  Christian  principle 
and  integrity  would  suggest  to  any  honest  man  paid  by 
the  country. 

This  seemed  to  strike  Lieut.  R.,  and  he  exclaimed, 
"By  G — d,  Dr.,  there  must  be  something  more  than  I 
thought  in  you  Methodists !  "  I  give  you  his  own 
words. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  he  called  at  my 
apartments  with  a  ticket  for  the  theatre,  and  which,  I 
knew,  he  could  have  only  obtained  by  paying  an  exor- 
bitant price,  there  being  two  celebrated  performers 
from  London  that  night,  which  for  some  days  pre- 
viously had  raised  the  box  tickets  to  four  times  their 
ordinary  value.  On  his  presenting  it  to  me,  I  expressed 
my  sense  of  obligation  for  his  intended  favor,  but  told 
him  that  neither  my  principles  nor  inclination  would 
permit  me  to  use  it.  Being  in  the  act  of  arranoin<r 
some  tracts,  I  put  into  his  hand  "  The  Death  of  Alta- 
mont,"  a  tract  published  by  the  Religious  Tract  Soci- 
ety, with  merely  observing  to  him:  "as  you  seem  so 
anxious  to  confer  an  obligation  on  me,  put  this  little 
book  into  your  pocket  and  read  it  to  oblige  me." 

He  left  me  to  dress  for  the  theatre,  to  which  place  he 
went  early  to  secure  a  seat.  He  sat  in  a  corner  box, 
and,  as  he  afterward  toJd  me,  merely  to  pass  away 
some  part  of  the  previous  time  before  the  play  began, 
he  took  the  tract  from  his  pocket  and  began  to  read  it. 
So  signal  and  mighty  were  the  operations  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  on  his  mind,  that  he  became  wholly  and  exclu- 
sively absorbed  in  the  contents  of  the  tract,  and  at  the 
termination  of  the  play,  after  midnight,  he  left  the  thea- 
tre without  having  felt  the  slightest  interest  in  the  per- 
formances. To  use  his  own  words,  "conscience  was  the 
only  performer  before  me  that  night." 


TRACT    READ    IN    THE    THEATRE.  3 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  that,  after 
having  on  his  return  from  the  theatre  thrown  himself 
undressed  on  his  bed,  and  in  vain  attempted  to  drown 
the  voice  of  God  in  oblivion,  lie  came  over  to  my  apart- 
ments, and  loudly  knocking  at  the  door,  requested  to  be 
admitted.  As  long  as  memory  retains  her  seat,  I  can 
never  forget  his  haggard  looks  and  his  tremulous  voice. 
With  a  look  of  despair,  and  in  a  manner  which  seemed 
to  carry  with  it  a  conviction  of  irretrievable  ruin,  he 
exclaimed  J  "  Tell  me,  oh  !.  tell  me,  is  it  possible  that  I 
can  obtain  mercy  and  forgiveness  from  the  offended 
God  of  Altamont?  Tell  me,  oh  !  tell  me,  if  you  really 
think  I  possibly  can?"  Hastily  dressing  myself,  we 
sat  together  on  the  sofa,  he  in  a  state  of  restless  agony, 
which  expressed  itself  in  incessant  weeping  and  wring- 
ing of  the  hands,  reiterating  again  and  again  the  ques- 
tion he  had  just  put  to  me.  I  at  once  led  him  to  the 
throne  of  grace  —  wrestled  along  with  him,  that  He 
would  reveal  himself  in  all  his  mighty,  enlightening 
and  consolatory  power,  who  ever  lives  to  save  to  the  ut- 
termost all  who  come  to  God  by  him.  Whilst  on  our 
knees,  I  brought  before  him  the  boundless  mercy  of  Je- 
hovah, and  the  freeness  and  fullness  of  that  salvation 
which,  whosoever  will  may  receive  without  money  and 
without  price,  and  it  was  worth  living  for  to  witness  the. 
eagerness  with  which  he  listened  to  the  simple  tale  of 
redeeming  love,  and  the  glad  tidings  of  free  and  full 
salvation  by  faith  in  the  atoning  blood  of  Jesus.  The 
same  day  and  night  he  scarcely  tasted  food  or  took  any 
rest,  and  no  drowning  man  could  more  vehemently  call 
for  assistance,  nor  any  famishing  man  more  greedily 
devour  the  means  of  support,  than  he  sought  for  war- 
rant in  the  promises  of  the  gospel,  to  lay  hold  of  the 
hope  there  set  before  him. 


4  LIEUTENANT    R.,   OR    THE 

In  a  few  days  it  pleased  God  to  enable  him  to  cast 
himself  as  a  ruined,  helpless  sinner,  into  the  arms  of 
Jesus,  and  I  can  never  forget  the  expression  of  his 
countenance,  pale  and  languid  as  it  was  with  groaning 
and  cries,  which  had  been  his  meat  day  and  night, 
when  on  entering  his  room  early  on  the  fourth  morning, 
it  became  almost  illuminated  with  tears  of  sacred  joy, 
and  he  exclaimed,  [  have  found  him  whom  my  soul 
Joveth,  the  friend  of  sinners,  who  his  own  self  says, 
him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  nowise  cast  out.  Look 
at  it,  do  look  at  it,  in  this  precious  book  which  you  gave 
me,  at  the  same  moment  holding  up  a  New  Testament, 
which  was  to  him  the  pearl  of  great  price.  I  had,  on 
the  preceding  day,  directed  his  attention  to  the  follow- 
ing passages  of  scripture,  among  several  others:  Luke 
ii,  10;  John  iii,  14-17;  vi,  37;  Rom.  x,  4;  1  Tim.  i,  15; 
Heb.  7,  25;  1  John  i,  9;  ii,  1,2.  He  had  committed 
these  and  many  other  passages  of  holy  writ  to  memory, 
and  dwelt  on  them  with  indescribable  satisfaction 

From  this  hour,  having  credited  the  simple  declara- 
tions of  truth,  he  went  on  his  way  rejoicing,  knowing  in 
whom  he  had  believed,  and  that  lie  would  keep  that 
which  he  had  committed  to  his  trust,  to  the  solemn  hour 
when  he  should  be  called  to  appear  at  the  dread  tribu- 
nal of  a  righteous  God,  where  inflexible  justice  would 
be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  that  robe  which  hides 
and  cancels  all  our  sins. 

Within  a  month  he  was  called  to  embark  with  his 
regiment  for  the  West  Indies,  and  scarcely  had  he 
reached  that  unhealthy  climate,  even  before  disembark- 
ing, when  it  pleased  God,  in  his  mysterious  providence, 
to  arrest  him  by  yellow  fever,  and  in  a  few  days  to  call 
him  to  the  realms  of  perfect  purity  and  bliss.  On  the 
day  preceding    his   embarkation,   he   supplied    himself 


TRACT    READ    IN    THE    THEATRE.  D 

liberally  with  bibles  and  tracts,  for  distribution  to  all 
on  board,  and  his  separation  from  me  was  one  which 
may  be  imagined,  but  which  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to 
describe.  I  was  to  hear  from  him  on  his  arrival  at  Ja- 
maica, but  the  first  account  of  him  was  an  official  report 
of  his  death,  and  this  was  soon  followed  by  the  return 
of  his  faithful  confidential  servant-man,  who  told  me, 
with  the  deepest  sorrow,  that  after  a  sudden  attack  of 
fever,  which  deprived  him  of  his  reason,  he  recovered 
his  consciousness  and  requested  the  presence  of  all  his 
brother  officers,  to  whom,  in  his  expiring-  moments,  he 
preached  Christ  crucified  as  the  only  refuge  from  the 
wrath  to  come,  and  the  only  source  of  solid  happiness. 
During  this  time  he  held  in  his  quivering  hand  the 
identical  tract  that  lie  had  received  from  me  before  go- 
ing to  the  theatre,  and  with  this  messenger  of  mercy, 
grasped  more  firmly  as  life  fled,  he  expired  amid  the 
lamentations  of  those  who  esteemed  him  as  a  man  and 
an  officer,  and  was  buried  with  the  tract  pressed  to  his 
heart. 

One  of  our  ingenious  military  friends,  says  the  Rich- 
mond Examiner,  thinks  the  colporteurs  are  doing  great 
harm  in  our  army  by  circulating  terrible  tracts  in  the 
camps,  and  on  the  eve  of  expected  battles,  confronting 
our  men  with  little  pamphlets,  entitled  "Are  you  ready 
to  die?"     "Sinner,  you  are  soon  to  be  damned/'  etc. 

This  is  more  than  a  mistake.  The  best  stimulation 
of  courage  and  endurance  in  the  army,  is  to  be  found  in 
an  inculcation  of  Christian  spirit  among  the  men 
With  more  religion  in  our  camps,  we  will  have  less 
drunkenness,  less  dissatisfaction,  less  grumbling,  and  a 
courage  which  becomes  invincible,  as  it  is  refined  by 
the  pure  and  holy  spirit  of  religious  convictions.     An 


OR    TH1 


army  stands  as  much  in  need  of  m/»aI  and  religious 
education  as  any  equal  number  of  men  composing  a 
social  community;  and  the  colporteurs  are  doing  a 
work  which,  even  in  worldly  expediency,  is  not  to  be 
despised. 

The  higher  order  of  patriotism  is  closely  akin  to  re- 
ligion, and  the  loftiest  courage  is  always  associated,  if 
not  with  religious  profession,  at  least  with  deep  feelings 
of  reverence  for  the  divine  mysteries  of  life  and  death. 
The  man  who  blanches  at  the  question,  u  are  you  pre- 
pared to  die?"  or  worse  than  that,  puts  it  off*  with  a 
sneer,  is  destitute  of  true  courage.  Many  a  man  who, 
in  times  of  peace  and  safety,  hardens  his  heart  and  im- 
agines himself  to  be  brave,  will,  when  the  battle  is 
raging  around  him,  howl  in  terrified  agony  of  spirit  to 
God  for  mercy,  while  the  Christian  soldier  stands  be- 
fore the  red  crash  of  death,  not  in  sight  of  his  "Empe- 
ror," as  the  French  soldiers  at  Solferino  did,  but  in  the 
sight  of  hie  God. 

We  must  remark  the  painful  evidences  of  the  loss  of 
the  sense  of  our  dependence  on  God  as  the  war  has 
progressed.  It  did  not  commence  so.  The  City  of 
Charleston  is  said  to  have  been,  on  the  eve  of  the  battle 
of  Fort  Sumter,  like  one  vast  altar,  from  which  as- 
cended the  incense  of  prayer.  The  whole  nation,  from 
Virginia  to  Texas,  commemorated  our  early  and  bril- 
liant victory  of  Manassas  by  thanksgiving  in  the  ten 
thousand  sanctuaries  of  the  land.  But  there  has  lately 
been  a  marked  relaxation  of  this  sense  of  our  depen- 
dence on  the  God  of  battles.  It  has  been  impiously 
said  that  the  battle  of  Belmont  was  won  by  the  ener- 
getic oaths  of  our  officers.  There  has  been  a  wretched 
plausibility  that  has  preached  in  favor  of  immoral  in- 
dulgences in  our  army,  that  has  given  eclat  to  profanity 


TRACT    READ    IN    THE    THEATRE.  7 

of  officers  in  battle,  and  that  has  winked  at  drunken- 
ness in  the  camps,  by  questioning  the  military  virtues 
of  water  drinkers.  We  have  a  great  work  before  us. 
It  may  not  be  assisted  by  the  mere  cant  and  whines  of 
religious  pretension,  but  it  certainly  will  be  assisted  by 
that  hearty  and  reverent  sense  of  dependence  on  Divine 
Providence,  and  that  practical  habit  of  religious  suppli- 
cation which  strengthened  our  fathers  in  the  times  of 
their  trial,  and  has  everywhere  left  their  evidences  of 
reward  on  the  pages  of  history. 


LAST  WORDS  OF  DYING  SINNERS. 

"Millions  of 'money  for  one  minute  of  time!"  exclaimed  a  dy- 
ing lady  of  rank,  of  beauty,  and  of  power;  but  not  a  minute 
was  to  be  found  for  her  in  tin-  world  of  time.  She^iad  spent  her 
years  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and  never  had  one  moment  to 
spare  for  the  great  concerns  of  the  world  to  come. 

" //  is  too  late,  I  am  lost!"  was  the  dying  cry  of  a  young  man 
who  had  passed  through  a  revival  of  religion,  and  had  not  been 
moved  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Sudden  sickness  seized 
him,  and  death  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  he  was  filled  with 
anguish  when  he  saw  the  danger  of  his  precious  soul.  He  was 
urged  to  fly  to  the  Saviour  and  trust  him,  as  did  the  thief  on  the 
cross.  But  with  the  lamentation  on  his  lips,  "  Too  late,  I  am 
lost !"  he  expired. 

Mr,  Ilervey  called  to  see  a  dying  man,  who  thus  gave  utter- 
ance to  the  deep  sorrows  of  his  soul :  "  I  see  a  horrible  night 
approaching,  bringing  with  it  the  blackness  of  darkness  for  ever. 
Woe  is  me.  When  God  called,  I  refused.  Now  I  am  in  sore 
anguish,  and  yet  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  I  shall 
be  destroyed  with  an  everlasting  destruction  ! " 

UI  won't  die  now"  cried  a  young  lady,  when  she  felt  the  pangs 
of  death  getting  hold  upon  her.  But  as  they  increased,  and  she 
saw  there  was  no  way  of  escape,  and  that,  whether  willing  or 
not,  she  must  die,  she  cried  out,  "  Lord,  what  must  I  do  V  and 
fell  back  in  death. 

A  rich  man  was  dying,  and  when  the  physician  had  exhausted 
his  skill  in  fruitless  attempts  to  arrest  the  violence  of  his  disease, 
the  sufferer  asked,  "  shall  I  never  recover  ?  "  "  You  are  quite 
sick,"  answered  the  doctor,  "  and  should  prepare  for  the  worst." 
"  Cannot  I  live  for  a  week  V  "  "No;  you  will  probably  continue 
but  a  little  while."  "  Say  not  so,"  said  the  dying  man,  "  I  will 
give  you  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  if  you  will  prolong  my  life 
three  days."  "  I  could  not  do  it,  my  dear  sir,  for  three  hours," 
said  the  doctor,  and  the  man  was  dead  in  less  than  an  hour. 

"  There  is  no  mercy  for  me  now!"  said  a  youth,  who  had  been 
careless  and  irreligious  in  health,  and  now  in  sickness  he  felt 
that  the  atonement  which  he  had  despised  was  not  within  his 
reach.  He  died  without  hope,  protesting  to  the  end  that  there 
was  no  mercy  for  such  a  sinner  as  he. 

"  TO-DAY,  IF  YE  WILL  HEAR  HIS  VOICE,  HARDEN  NOT  YOUR 
HEARTS." — LlEB.     IV.     7. 


PUBLISHED   BY  THE  SOUTH  CAROLINA  TRACT  SOCIETY. 

Printed  by  Evans  &  Cogswell,  No.  3  Broiid  street,  Charleston,  S.  C. 


Hollinger  Corp. 
pH8.5 


